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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462758">A Letter Come Blowin' In On An Ill Wind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisenschrott/pseuds/Eisenschrott'>Eisenschrott</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Original Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canonical Character Death, Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:06:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisenschrott/pseuds/Eisenschrott</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A goodbye message, sent after the battle of Endor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Firmus Piett/Maximilian Veers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Letter Come Blowin' In On An Ill Wind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>[<strong><em>Transmission #OUT-48110226-KE-0-SSDEXECUTOR</em></strong></p><p>
  <strong> <em>From: Adm. Firmus Piett</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>To: Gen. Maximilian Veers</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong><em>Communication status: ENCRYPTED_BESH PLUS LEVEL SECURITY. This message will self-destroy 10 standard minutes after opening.</em></strong>]</p><p>Hello, dear.</p><p>I know what you thought as soon as you saw the sender of this holomessage, so let’s get things clear right away. I scheduled this message to reach you automatically, should I be listed as dead in the battle we are expecting at Endor in a matter of standard hours. If you are reading it, it means I am indeed dead. Presumably, for a moment your hopes have soared that I might still be among the living. I am so sorry to disappoint you.</p><p>Believe me, Max. I did not want anything to end like this. My life. My career. The two of us. This battle, the course of the war, and… For haran’s sake, I am dead, I can break the rules of every single protocol written or unwritten in the whole Empire and speak freely. I have an awful feeling about this battle, like a strill is mauling my guts from the inside-out. The strategy is reckless to put it in the most charitable terms; Admiral Ozzel’s plan for Hoth was at least a blunder on a normal scale. The worst thing is, this time I cannot do anything to work some damage control measure in from the backstage. Not even as the Fleet Admiral do I have the authority to alter the Emperor’s direct orders. I cannot be seen to doubt them, either, let alone criticise them. I could name a half dozen fleet captains who would sniff out a golden chance to preen in front of the Emperor, and jump for my defeatist jugular and my rainbow jacket. Lord Vader does not seem to care, if he ever has. I’m not even sure where he is; on the Death Star with His Majesty, on the Forest Moon chasing after the Rebels I fear we have let slip through our line of defence… Never in my life have I felt more concerned for the Empire as it stands now. You were lucky to get that medical leave early on and haul your arse off the <em>Executor</em>. I know you were upset, and I can easily assume you are blaming yourself for not having been here to fight down on the Forest Moon, indulge in your usual heroics and save me, somehow. There is nothing you could have done. Trust me, dear.</p><p>Sithspit, I am being a paranoid whinger. My apologies.</p><p>In case you are wondering why you were transferred to a military hospital as far away from the <em>Executor</em> and the Endor system as I could order, it was not only to free up a bed in case we need every available place in the medbays. I have personally rejected each and every one of your applications for early return to active service. I did it to protect you, Max. And to protect myself. I have seen what losing your wife has done to you, even after so many years. I do not intend to experience that on myself; in a sense, I take comfort in being the first of us to die. Think of me as a coward and a spineless, heartless bastard if you want; I am past caring.</p><p>Still, I wish we could have celebrated the victory together. We would have gotten plastered, made love for a whole rotation, and since you are a far more hopelessly sentimental tosspot than I am, perhaps you would have asked me to marry you. Maybe I would have been enough of a drunk, well-fucked tosspot myself as to reply in the affirmative.</p><p>Forgive me if none of this will ever come to pass, Max. I wish I had told you more often how much you have meant to me. And, please, if you ever can, do forgive me for putting you through the loss of your loved one again. Or do not forgive me, if that is what helps you, as long as you heal and you do not let grief overpower you.</p><p>This is my last wish, dear. Live on. Move on. Slap some sense into your insufferable brat and make peace with him. Keep fighting to your last breath, until the final blaze of glory that General Iron Max Veers was always supposed to go out in. I hope it will be quick, painless, and tactically meaningful. Or live until the war is over, quit the army, go back to Denon and die of ripe old age. I am not in a hurry and I can wait for you a long while, so please, do not join me anytime soon here in the hells or in the Unifying Force, or wherever it is that dead soldiers go, I beg you. This is also your last order from your admiral, and I expect you to carry it out unfailingly, to the best of your abilities, as you always do.</p><p>Since we are on the subject of last wishes, I have a favour to ask you, a personal one from one brother-in-arms to another, not an order. Go say goodbye to my sister for me. The name is Attica Piett. She runs a droid repair shop in Rikuba City on Axxila, Quadrant 17, Level 3; the street was named Chortav Krayt around the last time I was there. Tell her she was always dear to my rotten little heart and I’m sorry I have been a terrible brother. While you are there, please, tell her to burn a gutter-crow feather in remembrance of our mother on my behalf, during the next solar eclipse festival.</p><p>I don’t want any of that ceremony for myself, and I strongly advise you not to stick around on Axxila during the festival; I doubt you, your liver or the credits in your wallet would survive. Just pour yourself a glass of grog and drink a toast to the good times we had the fortune and honour of sharing.</p><p>I must return to the bridge now. Glory to the Empire, and farewell, my love.</p><p>[<strong><em>This message will self-destroy in</em></strong></p><p>
  <strong> <em>00:00:05</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>00:00:04</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>00:00:03</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>00:00:02</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong><em>00:00:01</em></strong>]</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally written for a tumblr prompt. Title from <em>Livin' in the Future</em> by Bruce Springsteen.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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